Journeys Of A Hidden prince
by Miaous
Summary: This story follows the life of Jon Snow, a lord's bastard, and a boy with dreams beyond his station. AU where Jon escapes Winterfell, in search of answers about his mother. PS: This is my first story and I am not an english speaker so I hope you'll enjoy this.
1. Chapter 1

She sat in a chair sipping tea, and looking up at the window. Her face seemed at peace for she was able to get everything she wanted: a house, a bakery where she worked alongside her son and even her daughter got married to a knight.

If anyone had came to her twenty years ago, and told her that she will be leading a comfortable life, she would have simply laughed. She was a lowborn, a bastard who never knew her father, only her maid mother's rough hands who worked as a midwife, and with whom she worked upon her eighth nameday in a lord's home.

She led a humble life, and loved a humble man, the homely cook's hand who aspired to open a bakery one day. They lived day by day, and after her daughter's birth, she was assigned as the little lady's wet nurse, and even succeeded her mother as the town's midwife.

All was well, until the day her husband fell ill. She gave up her position in order to take care of him, but the illness still took his life few moons afterwards. Death changed her life drastically; it made her a widow, an indebted widow. And the fact that there was another life inside her drowned her more in debts.

By the time she gave birth to a healthy boy, she lost everything she owned even the little cabin she called her home, and even that was unable to cover her debts. Hopelessness plagued her, that was until she was summoned to the new lord's house.

She was asked to assist the lord's maiden sister; she was with a child out of wedlock. Her pay was good but not enough, though her work was easy and the sad lady was kind. Several moons later, the heartbreak lead the lady to an early labor. She gave birth to a stillborn, a daughter. Therefore, she knew her help was no longer needed.

That same day, she was surprised to encounter the lord's younger brother, the one she hasn't for years ever since he left for someplace called King's Landing. And she was more than surprised, when he approached and told her he will pay her a huge sum if she accepted to work for him. Two days later, they went to a tower and there she assisted another lady.

The unfortunate events that followed made her gain everything including freedom from debts, while her silence took everything from a babe, the last boy she nursed, and the one she would never forget. Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a high voice **"Mother! I am with child!"**

She stood up to embrace her daughter, and the joy made her think for the first time in her life, that maybe this new child will make her forget about that boy, that the nightmares, the regret and the guilt will finally disappear. Her grandchild represented hope for her.

" That boy was also the hope of a whole realm" another voice reminded her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclamer : I own nothing.**

Jon woke up like he usually did, sweaty and scared to the bones. He had another nightmare, but this one was more vivid than the previous night. He tried to go back to sleep. He was tired, and his eyes were barely open, but the fright made him wide awake.

If his mother was here, would she be here right now comforting him?

Perhaps, she would have heard his cries and came as soon as she could. That's what mothers do right? Or at least that's what Lady Stark did whenever one of his siblings had a nightmare.

He was certain that no one came because no one heard him not even his mother for he knew nothing about her. A motherless bastard was what he was, a snowflake that should have never landed on winterfell's grounds or stained his lord father's honor.

Surprisingly, thinking about his nightmares seemed more pleasing than thinking about his existence. A servant once told him that his face always looked pained, and advised him to not think at all if he wanted his face to look normal. Such a wise words for a maid, but he will follow her advice, since he did not want to anger Lady Stark.

In fact, his pained expression made him look like his father more than his brothers and sisters, and the Lady definitely hated that. She saw him as a threat to her children's birthright, and told them to stay from him. Her latest attempt to distance them from him was actually using his father's absence to remind him of what he was: a Snow.

When he was younger, his father not being around meant he will miss him. Now, it meant that he would not be attending the measter's or the fighting lessons. It meant that he will be working in the stables, just like he will today.

With this thought in mind, he changed his attire, and headed to the kitchens. It was already sunrise; therefore the cooks and maids have already started preparing the first meal of the day. Nobody noticed him, unlike when he usually came with his brother, except for the wise servant who simply smiled at him and sneaked two loafs of bread into his pockets. He shushed his thanks, and headed to the stables.

Finishing his work took him the whole morning, but he was glad that he finally had some time for himself. After finding his favorite book in the library, he went straight ahead to the crypts. It was an unusual place to read, but there he felt free to unleash his imagination. There he was able to picture himself living his life as sellsword, a measter, a knight or even a prince just like his favorite hero Daeron Targaryen.

Reading was so enjoyable that he wouldn't even miss Robb's company, and he was well aware that the young lord did not miss him either since he's probably practicing with Greyjoy. The simple thought of Theon angered him. He hated that lad, but he hated even more the fact that Robb follows him like a lost wolf pup.

A wolf pup should never trust a kraken, as it may lead him to the sea and drown him.

 **He should not think! He should not think!**

He needed a distraction; maybe changing where he sat would help him. He found himself sitting across Lyanna Stark' status, his aunt. He relaxed and simply looked at her, and at his surroundings.

She was carved as a beautiful lady, a beauty worthy of a rebellion. She looked just like he imagined his mother would look like.

Her beauty was so comforting, that he ended up drifting to sleep.

 **Your reviews and opinions are welcome ^^**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

That time, Lord Stark's absence lasted more than usual.

Jon found himself liking his new daily life. A peaceful life where he was invisible: a commoner.

He would wake up at an early hour, do his assigned chores, pray in the Godswoods, and then head to the crypts to read a few books until his eyes were barely open. Lately, his latest obsession was war strategies and conquest books.

Somehow, he wished he was a prince just like his favorite hero, who conquered Dorne. It always amazed him how at such young age, Daeron Targaryen made the Martells bend, bow and break. Alas, he wasn't a prince or a noble. Then he was reminded that the Targaryens themselves acquired the royal blood through conquest, as they were only a minor Valyrian house. Still, they weren't bastards.

If he couldn't become a conqueror or a lord, he still could become a Sellsword. Maybe, he would join the golden company, which he read that it was founded by another bastard. A good option, but he didn't have enough coins to get him to Essos.

He could become a knight, Ser Greywolf they would call him. His father would be more than able to find him someone to squire for. A realistic option yet very unlikely.

Or he could cross the wall, and start a new life there, perhaps even becoming the king beyond the wall. Yet, he didn't want to become an enemy to his family.

So he ended up, thinking about his last option: the Night's Watch. The only possible way to prove himself. By joining, he would protect the realm from threats and possibly become youngest lord commander in history.

" I knew I would find you here, lad!" a familiar voice exclaimed.

A surprised Jon looked up to see the owner of the voice who pulled him out of his day dreams. It was the music teacher of his siblings, the only lessons he was forbidden to attend even when Lord Stark was home. He named himself Bael just like Jon's alleged ancestor Bael the bard, a king beyond the wall. He had met the musician practicing at the Godswoods. Ever since then the bard took a liking to him, and even took him as pupil, teaching him how to play the high harp and singing in secret.

Surprisingly, the crypts were such a good place to play music, and to entertain the dead.

"How come you're here Bael? I thought you already left?"

«The lady asked me to stay until another teacher was hired. Plus, I couldn't leave without saying goodbye to my favorite pupil, right?" the bard answered with a smile.

He then preceded to hand him a box which Jon hadn't noticed earlier.

"Open it" Bael demanded.

Jon opened the mystery box, only to find a beautiful high harp with silver strings, and a withering winter rose.

«I wanted to give you something as a farewell gift, before going back home. The only thing of value that I own are my lute, and the harp you used to play, but I had to sell it for travel expenses. A few days ago, I was wandering here at night, when I found that box hidden behind the lady's status. It seems she liked music as well; perhaps you got your talent from her. And I don't think she would mind you using it. You're her blood after all." He explained

Jon moved by his teacher's thanked him, and after exchanging their goodbyes he wished him a safe journey. Just as the bard started to walk away, Jon asked him one last question:

"and what about the rose?"

"There was already a withering blue one there, but I changed it with a fresh one that I picked from your lord father's gardens." He answered.

"Take it as inspiration to write a song, it's better than writing your sad journeys, Jon" he added as he was leaving.

Finally alone, Jon picks up the harp and runs his fingers lightly over its silver strings. Sweet sadness fills the crypts, and Stark tears soak the ground.


	4. Chapter 4

**I own nothing;**

Lullabies and songs filled Jon's days.

He would spend the whole day singing and playing the few songs he learned from the bard, and somehow his absence from his usual chores went unnoticed. After all, a bastard's presence was undesirable.

Music became then his only companion and the cure to his sleepless nights. He no longer had his nightmares, not after receiving his own harp. Instead they were replaced with dreams, happy warm dreams. His favorite one would be the one where he almost saw his mother's face, and almost felt her touch. She would ask him to play for her. And she always requested the same song: Jenny's song.

He never heard about it before. And so, for the first time in his life, Jon found himself looking for a Music book.

The Winterfell's library was big, and he was almost certain he would find something there. And he was right.

After a few hours of searching, he came upon a mysterious book. Untitled it was, with only one sentence written on its front cover: To the Knight of the Laughing Tree. A knight who loved songs was an interesting thing. He should definitely ask the measter about him, or even do his own researches to find out why such a book ended up at the direwolves' home.

It contained a collection of songs written in the most exquisite handwriting he had ever seen. Some of them were popular such as the Bear and the Maiden Fair, while others weren't. He switched the pages examining each song, until he finally came upon what he was looking for.

Jenny's song was not the product of his imagination, it really did exist. He kept reading its lyrics over and over again, until it was stuck on his head. The song was about Jenny of Oldstones, the one woman who made a prince give up on his crown for love.

His fingers itched, and he had a strong desire to try to play it, and imagine that his mother was listening to him. Maybe, wherever she was, she really did love the song.

If only his father would tell him who she was. He was ready to accept any truth, anything. Yet every time he asked his sire, he would change the subject and simply promise him to tell him everything once he was old enough.

He was eleven, almost a man; he even had few white hairs now. They even say that bastards grow faster. Thus, Jon decided he should try to ask him again. He hoped that this time he would receive the answers he was seeking.

For now, he can only wait for his father's safe return.

Life was unfair, that he knew. His siblings had their mother's love and care since their birth, while he only wished to know her name. He envied them.

Not attending his lessons was a good reminder of his low birth, his lack of luck and life's unfairness. It gave him the opportunity to reflect on his present and future. Of course, there was no way to completely get rid of his bastardy, but there was still a glimpse of a chance that he can at least feel fulfilled.

It was just a matter of time before his brother becomes the Lord of the castle. He would have loved to stay by his side, to become his right hand, but that was utterly impossible.

Staying meant living and dying as the bastard of the castle.

He knew that as soon as he hit his fourteen namedays or more, he would find himself obliged to leave his home, more possibly for the Wall. He liked considering other options, but they were just unreachable dreams. Still, wherever he would end up, he knew he'll miss his family.

Now even though he was still home, he couldn't see them. Lady Stark made them believe that he left Winterfell to see his sick wetnurse, he had heard. A woman he didn't even remember, or met after his first year. It explained why none of his siblings came to visit him in his chambers, and he spending most of his time at the crypts only reinforced the lie.

Invisible she wanted him to be, and invisible he was until his father's banners were sighted.

Pretending his arrival was an easy task, and he was welcomed with brotherly hugs from Robb and little Bran, kisses from Arya, courteous nods from Sansa, and of course death glares from their mother.

Hours later, Lord Stark and his company reached the gate, looking as grim as ever.


	5. Chapter 5

**Your reviews made me so happy! Thank you so much, guys.**

 **I hope you enjoy this chapter as well :D**

His father was finally here, yet so far away.

His face was tired and gloomy as he was greeting them, and his smiles seemed forced, even at the feast that was held to celebrate his safe return. Jon kept examining him barely tasting the food he had in front of him. It was clear, that night was not the right time to ask him.

He had waited his whole life, so another few days would not hurt.

He spent his wait, attending the lessons with Robb. Practicing swordplay was by far their favorite lesson. They would fight with their wooden swords, as if they were real swords. Robb even named his Ice just like House Stark's valyrian sword, the one he would inherit once he becomes the warden of the north. As for his own sword, he kept it unnamed. He simply had no need to do it. He would receive no valyrian steel from his father, but he knew that someday he would own one, a sword specially made for him, a bastard sword perhaps.

How convenient! A bastard sword for a bastard!

Still, the fights were always amusing, even so when he kicked Theon's arse, or when he dueled Robb with smiles on their faces. Those smiles didn't die even when Jon bested him almost every time.

The lady hated him for that, believing he would use the chance to hurt his own brother. He certainly was a bastard of birth but not of mind, he would never harm Robb, the brother he grew up with and loved with all his might.

As for the measter's lessons, they were still boring as they were before their father's leave. Measter Lewin was a kind man, a knowledgeable one, but the way he teaches almost lulled to sleep.

Reading books alone was much more interesting, but still they were void of any information of the mystery knight. Therefore, Jon tried to ask him while the others were present but he couldn't.

So he waited for the end of a lesson, until they were the only ones left in the room.

Fortunately, the measter did hear about the Knight of the Laughing Tree. He was a mystery knight who fought at the tourney of Harrenhal. He disappeared after that, leaving only his armor behind.

Unfortunately, the measter had no idea about the book of songs or how it ended in Winterfell.

It seemed that some mysteries were meant to never be revealed.

Still, he hoped his own mystery was not one of them. He needed the right moment to know the truth at the right place.

And just as he was heading to the crypts, that right moment came. On his way there, he met his favorite maid, who as if reading his mind, notified him that his lord father was praying at the Godswoods. He ran there at full speed without even thanking her as usual.

From afar, he saw his father's silhouette but there was also company: his Wife.

He tried to approach them without being noticed, and hid behind one of the trees. He'd better not interrupt them, for he wanted to avoid any of Lady Stark's cold stares.

He was within hearing range, and even heard parts of their conversation. There were talks of royal visits, and a possible appointment in the king's council. And then he heard his name.

His father was thinking about sending him off before the royal party's arrival. Obviously, the lady's suggestion was to send him to the wall, stating that it was the wisest choice, that now or later Snow would take the black. It was simply inevitable.

That statement sent cold shivers to his body; it even did deafen his ears. He was aware of his destiny or more his duty, but he never imagined it would be this early. If he was to leave now, he should at least learn the truth.

Once again, he waited until Lady Stark left, and then walked slowly towards his father's kneeling form with resolve.

"Father" he whispered.

Surprised to hear Jon's voice, Lord Eddard Stark stood up and turned to face his lowborn son.

"Jon, what are you doing here? Did you come to pray?" He asked.

Jon took a deep breath before responding to his sire.

"No, I came here to see you Father, to ask you about my mother before our gods".

"I beg you to tell me where she is, who she is, please!" he pleaded.

«It is not the time to talk of this, Jon. I promise to tell you everything, but now" Lord Stark answered.

Anger flooded his mind after hearing the typical answer he always received, he had to say something or else he would explode.

"Just tell me who she is! Was she a whore? Just tell me where is my whore mother who made you taint your honor!" Jon shouted.

He barely ended his sentence, when he felt an ache on his cheek.

His father had slapped him.


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm so sorry for taking too long to update the story, but I've been too busy these days with school. Being a college student is no easy task T_T.**

 **I really appreciated your reviews, and I hope you'll enjoy this chapter as well;**

Both of Jon's body and mind were hurt.

He never imagined his kind; loving father would raise his hands on him.

The look of anger and guilt of his father he saw before running off were forever forged in his memory.

The only safe haven he had was the crypts. So he entered the place with tears streaming down his face, and headed towards Lyanna Stark to grab his harp and his songs' book. They were his only consolation, his sole companions.

But he couldn't stay there for too long, for his aunt's statue reminded him too much of his father's face, the face he wished he didn't resemble.

He wished he had been born to another family. He wished he had been raised by his mother, even if she was poor, even if he didn't know who his sire was.

Now, or even in his wishes, he was no Stark.

Thus, unlike the other day he didn't stay there as he decided he would go to the lower floors where the kings of winter were. He often dreamed about them, they always were there in his nightmares. As he kept descending, he even mimicked that dream, crying and shouting that **he was no Stark** , that he had no mother, until he was drained.

He sat then in front one of the Winter kings, and started singing Jenny's song over and over again, until he drifted to sleep, due to exhaustion.

He stayed like that for more than two days.

Crying caused his eyes to change from their usual gray to a deep red. And he was hungry, very hungry. He looked awful.

He no longer cared about his wellbeing, he'd better die of hunger than live as a burden to his family.

He was the product of a mistake, and death would correct that mistake. So he simply lay there and slept in the cold again, waiting for the stranger's kiss.

The next day, he felt someone nudging him. Was it the stranger?

He painfully opened his eyes, only to find the wise maid. She seemed frightened and worried as she was carrying a candle.

«Thank the gods you're here!" She said with relief written over her face.

She handed him a morsel of bread, reminding him that he must be hungry. Which he gladly accepted, and took a bite to appease his hunger.

She told him that it has been three days since he was missing, that everyone was looking for him, even her.

She suspected she would find him here, since she followed him once to the crypts. And that was why she was here in front of him.

Out of curiosity, she asked him why he hid here, and he had no choice but to tell her everything.

«I used to help your wet-nurse when you were a babe. She was from the south, a Dornish woman called Wylla. This fact made the servant suspect that your mother was the late lady Ashara Dayne. But Wylla always insisted that the rumors were untrue.

She left for Dorne after your first nameday, just before she made me promise that if you ever face trouble I would help you. And that's why I always assisted you, why I am here on this very moment" she revealed upon hearing his story.

" If you wish to return to your life here, I would inform the lord of your being here, but if you would like to leave this place, I will help you. You could go to Starfall. Wylla lives there and I believe she knows your mother's identity." She continued.

After hearing the maid's revelation, Jon was silent. He was thinking about the amount information she revealed, and the choice she gave him.

She was the first person to do so, and for that he will always be grateful. He noticed that she was still looking at him, waiting for an answer.

He had to choose between staying in Winterfell and leaving shortly for the wall, without learning the truth of his parentage, or travelling to Dorne, and possibly finding his mother. He was sure his family would be better off without him anyway.

He would be better off somewhere else, farther than Lady Stark's hate and his father's false promises. So Jon decided to leave, looking for a better fate, for a mother's gentle love and touch. He was sure that even if he died during his search for her, he would die happily, because he would have tried to seek her. And perhaps he would reunite with her in the afterlife.

But for now, he wished to see her alive, to finally feel what it feels like to have someone who loves you and cares for you unconditionally.

The Maid, happy to hear his decision, began to explain her plan to get him to Dorne.

First they had to get him out of Winterfell. It was a hard task, but within reach.

She explained that they needed to conceal his identity, and therefore suggested shaving his head, and changing his "noble" attire. And they needed coins too, to cover the travel's expenses.

To execute their plan, Marna the maid left him to bring what they needed. She returned few hours later, with new clothes, a knife, and his belongings: his favorite book, the few coins he received as a nameday gift from his father, and his diaries.

Marna proved she was very skillful at shaving. She managed to finish her work without cutting him even once. Unfortunately, she was not as lucky as him, because she cut her own finger.

Her blood dripped on his clothes, and it only stopped when she took a piece of tissue of his clothes to stop the bleeding.

By the end of her work, his hair was gone, and his head looked like an egg.

Egg seemed like a proper name to take.

After changing his clothes, they discreetly sneaked out of the crypts, and managed to leave Winterfell and reach Wintertown, with no casualties.

Jon was finally free.


	7. Chapter 7

**I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please tell me what you think about it guys: D.**

Observing was a delightful pastime. A hobby he excelled at ever since he started being aware of his surroundings.

And so he observed the daily life in Wintertown, as if he was part of the audience of a tourney. The streets were muddy, and the houses were half empty. However, the market was full of Northmen, buying and selling goods in the wooden stalls. And the children's laughter was heard everywhere.

The life was peaceful in the town. For the only worries to have were about warmth and food. Spending his days as Egg cleared his thoughts.

Now, his mind was void of all worries but one: finding someone willing to take him to Dorne. He had stayed at the inn, the most perfect place to find travelers.

Marna, was of course the one to ensure his stay there. He became once again a stable boy, in exchange of food and a warm place to spend his nights. He was treated kindly by the workers and the owner, possibly thanks to Marna. It seemed she used to work there before being hired in Winterfell.

To these people, he was known as the kind Marna's orphan cousin.

And so, everyday he would help in the kitchens, the stables, the dining hall, or even run errands while waiting for anyone travelling south. Every day he would only see northmen, and no southron in sight. It was understandable, since the northmen did not fare well in the south.

It was common knowledge, that the men of the north could not withstand the heat, and preferred the cold instead.

Jon thought this was probably due to the fact that the only cold thing in his homeland was the weather. While everything was cold in the south except the climate, or so the rumours said. Jon would wonder how he would cope in the lands where he was born.

He knew he would survive, for he enjoyed both the chilling cold and the warm heat. Yet now his head felt cold. He missed his hair; it used to warm his head.

Now, he had to cover it with his black hood.

The color suited him well.

His few hairs were growing, but they were lighter than usual.

He should shave them a third time, to avoid being recognized by his father's guards who he stumbled upon every day. Thus, he took a bowl of water, the knife Marna gifted him after teaching him how to shave, and headed to the stables.

Just as he finished his work, he heard horse gallops, and sighted four figures riding four horses.

They were not northmen.

It was apparent through the furs they wore, the way they were clothed, and the way they spoke to him. They asked him if he worked here, and ordered him to take care of the horses.

They were probably his salvation, the people he waited for, for more than a moon.

He spent two days observing them from afar, gathering as much possible information he could. Their faces were impossible to see because of their hoods, but he was sure that three of them were knights, or at least skilled swordsmen.

They all acted as guards to the fourth one: an old man as old as Measter Lewin.

Jon even glimpsed Measter chains while serving them ale for dinner. Unfortunately, his keen eyes were not able to uncover their destination or their identities. Even the owner did not seem to know who they were. The coins they gave him was all he knew.

But Jon needed to know. He needed to leave. He needed to find his mother. He thought about her constantly, more than how much he thought about his guilt for leaving winterfell.

He still dreamed about her, but lately another person appeared at his dream: A musician who sang about prophecies, destiny, and saving the world. He had a voice so beautiful, it made Jon wake up with teary eyes.

That night, he had that same dream, and it woke him up again.

He opened his eyes only to find the other boys, with whom he slept at the dining hall. They were fully awake jesting and telling stories to each others.

At first, Jon hesitated about joining them, but hearing them talking about the legend of the Ice dragon spiked his interest. He learned that it was said there was one under the castle of Winterfell. Few believed such a truth, but the legend was still alive.

Once it was his turn to count a tale, Jon chose to speak about his favorite hero Daeron Targaryen, about his dragon, and how he conquered Dorne, thus making Westeros dubbed as the seven kingdoms.

His new friends were listening very attentively, memorizing every word he said. But they were not the only ones hearing him.

Actually, he was surprised to finally notice that the oldest southron was at the dining hall, at such late hour.

He was not wearing a hood, and smiling while Jon continued his tale, pretending to not be affected by his presence. When Jon reached the end of his story, only then the old man finally spoke.

"You seem to be very informed about the Targaryen King. I did not know the people of the north were interested in history" the old man said, still sitting in his place.

«Thank you for your kind words, my lord." Jon responded politely.

His guesses were somehow confirmed: The four men were from the South.

«Not only you know history, you have manners as well. What an interesting sight! What's your name, boy?" The old man added.

«My name is Egg" Jon answered his question.

"Just like Aegon the fifth." He whispered.

Only to ask Jon again:"What's your real name, boy?"

Jon was shaking after hearing the question again. He was afraid of his disguise being found, he was afraid of returning to Winterfell. He knew he needed another name to give, and he had one in mind.

"It's Daeron Sand, my lord" jon spoke this time confidently, he had managed to suppress his fear.

«Another Sand in the lands of Snow. It seems we have more in common than I ever thought. Come here lad let's talk a bit" the old man.

Jon went and sat in front of the man, he knew that this was his chance to leave Wintertown.

The man had eyes that sparked with wisdom, and was looking carefully at him.

He started questioning Jon about history. Soon, after that the questioning turned into discussion about kings and queens of Westeros, the age of heroes, and even the doom of Valyria.

Each one of them was expressing his views. They were both enjoying the conversation. And Jon even learned that the man in front of him was a bastard, just like himself.

They spoke until sunset, until they were tired and silent.

It was at that moment that the old man broke the silence by asking Jon one more question, how he ended up here.

Jon had no choice but to lie. He claimed that he came here after his mother's death to live with his father. That only moons ago he also lost his father. He even said that he hoped to return to his mother's homeland to live with his only remaining family.

Lies poured out of his mouth easily. He prayed that the gods would forgive him.

The kind man seemed to believe him, and even offered Jon to join them on their journey south on the next morrow. They were heading to Starfall, just the place where his wetnurse lived.

«The south is a better place for bastards, plus I need someone to discuss with, for a change. My dear companions' only talk about sparring, all the time" he complained, just before leaving a happy Egg behind.

There were no words able to describe how elated he felt at that moment. He had enough coins to buy a horse, as it was agreed.

He was one step closer to the truth.

The day of his departure finally came. He was ready, for he had already gathered his belongings, and was preparing to say his farewells to Marta. But just as he was leaving, he heard disturbing news.

Some men were talking about how the Winterfell patrol found his clothes soaked with blood in the Wolfswood.

He was believed to be dead.

He felt guilty for causing his family heartache, but deep down he knew this was the right thing to do.

And so he rode his horse, under the suspecting glares of the other knights.

It was time to leave his home, to leave Jon Snow behind.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello again! I bet that everyone is hyped for tomorrow: D.**

 **Finally the wait is over. I think the hyped is really what inspired me to write this chapter.**

 **Enjoy: D**

Jon loved riding. He loved the opportunities that it opened to him. With a horse he was free to go anywhere, at any speed, to enjoy the new sights he has never seen, to feel the wind embrace him.

He was a skilled horse rider for his age; at least that was what the youngest knight told him. He was the first one to ever address him, for the others would not approach Jon, they only watched him from afar with their suspecting eyes.

They seemed like they did not believe his story. They did not trust him. And so, Jon kept riding closer to the measter the whole way, keeping him company.

Through their numerous discussions, he revealed to Jon that he was named Martyn. Something his guards did not appreciate, and still the measter kept revealing bits of information every once and then.

He claimed that Daeron reminded him of someone he served before. Jon wondered who this person was, and how similar they were.

Was he a lord? Or a knight?

But he also questioned why a measter would be traveling this long distance, instead of serving a household.

So many questions were in head, and not enough answers. He'd better keep those to himself anyway, if he wished to reach his destination.

The more they were getting south, the more it was getting warmer, and the snow coats getting lesser.

Surprisingly, Jon enjoyed the warm wind and the lighter clothes he wore. The warmth suited him better, just like his Sand surname suited him more than his Snow one.

They stopped at several inns through their way, mainly to rest a bit and feed their horses. Jon usually shared a room with the other knights. Each time, they would test him. And each time, he would pass their trust test.

It only took a few days for Daeron, to win their full trust, and his every movements to be no longer watched. He became a part of their small company, often washing clothes, looking for food, or even saddling their beasts. His most favorite one, was the young knight, a youth of twenty name days almost the same age as his uncle Benjen.

If the measter found the knights dull and boring, Marcus found his companions too old. They would usually sit at the same table, and Marcus would talk about his family back in Dorne, while Jon listened to his every word, about his life in Starfall, his small keep, and even his wife whom he left with her mother so to not leave her alone.

His small talks meant he missed his family, just like Jon missed his. He often tried not to think about them, and how hurt they were because of his disappearance, but he hoped that what he did was the right thing. He promised himself to come back, after finding his mother.

His homesickness also heightened when they finally reached Moat Cailin, the ruins that belonged to his sire's house and his ancestors.

Measter Martyn decided to camp there for one night, out of curiosity, while passionately explaining the historical importance of such a place.

Jon very deep in thoughts about his family, for once, did not listen to the measter's lesson, only hearing few words: Children of the forest, Andals, and swamps. And none were interesting enough to make him forget about the Starks.

After a calm dinner, and while everyone was gathered around the fire, Jon started to sing one of the sad songs in his book. One, about a man who longed for his family.

No one dared to interrupt him. They were all listening,and Marcus even drifted to sleep, while the others just seemed to enjoy his talent. But what really surprised Jon was the tear that escaped the measter's eye, and which was streaming down his cheek.

When Jon finally finished his song, Measter Martyn spoke only three words: " **Who are you?"**

Jon baffled at the question composed himself and answered as calmly as possible:

«It is me Daeron, Measter. Have you forgotten me?" Jon japed.

The measter did not respond. He seemed shacked and nostalgic.

«You look like him. You even sound like him" he whispered so faintly, that Jon almost did not hear what he said.

The following morning, measter Martyn decided that it was time to resume their travel.

Just before leaving again, Jon shaved his hair again. He noted that his hair was still getting lighter than it was before. What was once a dark brown hair, was now a very light brown almost similar to ash blond.

Jon was trying to find an explanation to this drastic change, and even consulted the measter; the latter told him that he was not sick, and therefore there was no reason to worry about it. They had a long journey before them, and it was better to keep his mind clear.

3 days after that, the 4 men and a boy finally reached Riverrun, the home to the Tullys, the kin of Jon's kin.

The green landscapes were a nice sight, a new sight he enjoyed. And still Jon felt uneasy at Lady Stark's home.

He found himself praying that they will reach the Crownlands as soon as possible.

The weather was pleasant enough, that was why they avoided staying at inns, and camped wherever they deemed proper for spending their night.

The only inn they visited was the inn at the crossroad. Unlike the others they have been to, this one was crowded. They barely managed to get a room, one that they had to share.

While they were there, Jon had the opportunity to meet other boys the same age as his.

They were planning to go to the ruby ford to look for the Targaryen's prince's rubies. Seven fell from his breastplate, and only six were found.

The boys wanted to find the last one.

Jon knew that they would probably find nothing. It was impossible after all these years, eleven years to be exact.

Still, he joined because he had nothing else to do. He was dismissed by the measter for the morning. And from what he understood, measter Martyn meant to discuss with his guards some matters of importance, too complex for a lad's ears.

The red ford was unlike its name blue. The clear blue water was cold and nice to the touch.

While the other kids were eager and searching for the gem, he just stood far away looking at the waters, enjoying the sounds of streaming water and birds, until he suddenly noticed something unusual: A red small light.

He slowly approached the water, unsure of what he has seen.

It was a gem, the lost ruby.

Trying not to be noticed by his peers, he calmly picked his new small treasure and hid it in his pocket.

He returned to the inn after midday, with the other boys who were disappointed about their unsuccessful search.

Jon headed directly after that to the shared chambers.

For no reason, he told no one else about his findings, not even the measter or Marcus.

And just before he slept, he examined the gem. He could affirm with certainty that it was the real deal.

Jon clutched the ruby in his right hand, before drifting to a deep sleep.

That night he dreamt about a falling prince, whispering his last word, his lover's name just before leaving the land of the living.


	9. Chapter 9

Hello everyone!

I know it has been a long a time since I've updated the story, and I'm really sorry about it.

This last month, I was so busy because of my finals and projects, so I didn't find the time to write.

I promise I will try to make up for you, by updating more chapters :D.

Even from afar, the giant castle of Harrenhall was visible to Jon. It looked the same way it did in his dreams, and he could not believe his eyes. He could even imagine its great hall, where dragons, wolves, stars, stags, lions and even bats once danced. For some it was their last dance, and for others it was their last moments as a family. The most dangerous one was the dance of dragons. It was the most terrifying thing he ever dreamed about, and it ended with death before it even started.

Jon had been having this kind of dreams ever since he found the ruby, they did not bother his sleep, but they certainly were a mystery enough to bother his thoughts. Jon was amazed, for it seemed his dreams were somehow linked to reality.

He did not even realize that he stopped his horse and was actually lost in his thought until the measter called him from the front, to join him again. Measter Martyn, like every time wanted Jon to keep him company. He kept talking about Harrenhall all the way down to the Crownlands. As if the sole sight of the castle, reminded him of every single word he ever read in a book in the Citadel. He did not stop, not until King's landing was in their sight.

The city was the biggest thing he ever saw, but it was also the smelliest place he have ever been to.

It was full of colors, of splendor, riches, but also of whores, orphans, the poor, and misery. King's landing was a two faced place, he observed, where all types of people lived: It was a dangerous place for him, and for the Starks. After all, his Lord Grandfather and Lord Uncle were killed here.

But he was no Stark, he reminded himself, so he had nothing to fear.

As soon as they reached one of the busiest streets, a small child suddenly appeared in front of the measter's horse, and asked him silently to follow him. He led them to an empty and dark alley, and stopped in front of a red door. He wanted the measter to open it and enter, and so they did.

They found themselves in a garden, where a fat cloaked man stood as if he was waiting for them, for a long time. The man greeted the measter, barely acknowledging their presence, and soon after that both of them excused themselves. They had important matters to discuss, they said, as they left. After that, each one of them was lead to a room by one of the maids.

Jon was given the room in front of Marcus', one that was heavily decorated, with black and red silk, one that was befitting a prince or a king, he thought. Jon enjoyed the comfort of his new room, and took the chance to sleep in the comfortable bed, to gather his energy.

A knock in the door, woke him from his deep slumber, Jon stood up and opened the door to find a petite maid his age. She came to bring food, and informed him that the measter was busy.

Thus, he was invited to do as he pleases or even explore the city with an escort. Jon was eager enough to see more of King's landing, to accept the invitation. He changed his attire to the one he found in the room, took his harp and put his ruby in his pocket out of precaution, and headed out. In the hall, he found his escort waiting for him, a boy not older than Arya, who did not utter a word. He just ushered for Jon to follow him.

At first, they visited the flamboyant markets, the streets where the rich resided, and even the Sept of Baelor.

And then, they entered the nest of the less fortunate, Flea Bottom. There he saw utter misery: people who were looking for anything edible, women and even men selling their flesh for a meal, and children who looked just like walking corpses. He felt useless more than usual, as he knew these people needed help, they needed a hand he deeply wanted to give, but alas he couldn't. Whether he's a Sand or a Snow, Jon was just a bastard, a runaway bastard, who had no titles, no power, and of course no fortune. Mayhap, had he been born a prince he would have been able to change the situation, and build a realm populated with well fed happy folk. But now he didn't even have a copper in his pocket to give to the beggars.

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He even thought about selling the ruby, but when he checked the pocket, even the red gem was not there. It was not his anyways.

It seemed that it has been either robbed or he was careless enough to drop it while wandering in the street of this sad city.

A corrupted city, ruled by incompetent people who thought that a kingdom's gold was a sign of prosperity. Jon was sure and knew that it was the people's wellbeing. The whole thing reminded him of one of the songs he had in his book, a song about a man who wanted to change his city, and the life of his people, but couldn't, just like Jon.

These thoughts of his powerlessness drained him. So, he sat next to some beggar women, took his harp, and started singing that song. It was his way to get rid of negative thoughts, his mean to forget his reality and his surroundings. It was only at the end of the song, that he noticed the small crowd gathered around him. Some of them clapped and others threw some coins at the ground, for him to take. He took the coins, and decided to give them to the beggars in that street.

While he was handing the last coin to a blind old woman, she suddenly took his hand in hers. Her lifeless eyes stared at right his eyes. It was almost as if she still could see, as if she saw his hidden thoughts.

"Even after all these years, you still suffer don't you? I could not believe my ears when I heard your song. I knew it was you. I knew you would comeback gain to see us. And for that, I am forever grateful" The old women said with her wise voice, and then freed his hand from her hold.

The whole scene made Jon perplexed; he simply did not know what in seven hells she was talking about. Knowing he would not be getting any answers, he asked his escort to lead him to the house.

He wanted nothing more than to rest in his new comfortable bed. When he finally entered his room, he was greeted by an unfamiliar person.

A bald man, wearing silk garbs, and who smelt like perfume, was sitting in one of the chairs. His smile was big, and he looked as if he had found a treasure, or a long lost forgotten heirloom. When Jon walked towards him, he abruptly stood up, and bowed his head. Jon was taken aback by the gesture, for he never thought someone would bow to a lowly bastard such as him, and just stood eyeing the men.

"You kept me waiting for a long time, dear child. I hope that both your room and the city were to your liking" the bald men stated.

"Yes they were" Jon Hesitantly responded" I don't mean to be rude, but can I ask you who you are?" He asked the stranger.

"It seems I have lost my manners. Please do forgive, dear child. I am Varys, your host. I just came here to welcome you in my humble home, and wish you goodbye. It seems you and your company would be leaving tomorrow to your destination" the men said.

"I thank you my lord for your kindness and hospitality" Jon thanked the men.

"Call me Varys, just Varys. And I believe It is I who should thank you" Varys replied with a wink.

"By the way did you hear the latest rumors? It seems that Lord Stark refused the king's proposal, and chose instead to stay in his lands. They say he wants to stay with his wife, for she is with child. Such a lucky man he is, he just lost his bastard, but now he will gain another child, a highborn Stark." He added. After hearing the news, Jon could not utter on single word. It seemed that his family fared well without him.

He wished they weren't.

"My dear boy, it is time for me to leave. It was a pleasant thing talking to you. I hope you'll find the answers you're looking for, although I am pretty sure you will. Farewell then" Varys said.

And just as he was leaving the room he added:" There is a box on the table, it is a gift". Jon curious enough about it, went to the table, picked the box and opened it.

It was a ruby pendant, the same ruby he found and lost.


	10. Chapter 10

**Long time no see! I know that it took me so long to update, but I was really busy this summer.**

 **I hope you like it :D**

Wearing his new ruby necklace, Jon felt more comfortable than he did in the past, while holding it in his hands or hiding the ruby in his pockets. The "gift" was certainly helpful, but still Jon was uneasy about his whole interaction with the bald man. In the south no one was benevolent to others without a reason, or something to gain in return. Jon knew deep down, that the only reason why the measter was helping him was because he felt bored in the knights' company and wanted a travel companion. But this man Varys presented him with a valuable gift without revealing his intentions. The fact that he ignored his motives scared Jon. And the fact that he knew who "Egg" was, who Daeron Sand truly was scared him senseless. Varys was able to discern his identity in a short time. The man was certainly powerful in unconventional ways, his power resided in Knowledge. At dawn, as they were leaving the foul smelling city, Jon thanked the gods, both the old and the new, for there was no way he would meet Varys again;

With new mounts and fewer clothes, they reached the Stormlands within a few days, and got even to the Dornish marches where they chose to rest in one of the inns before entering the Dornish lands.

The inn was no different than the others they visited, though the hall was overly crowded. Knights, squires and lords, were drinking, eating, and some were laughing a crude laughter that resonated in Jon's ear. Most of them were heading toward a tourney, Jon heard, and were resting here before continuing their travels. Thus, the place was crowded, and they barely found a vacant room, one which they must share.

After a good sleep, Jon woke up to find his companions still in the room. The measter offered him a morsel of bread to eat, as they asked a servant to bring the food to them, instead of eating in the hall. Jon understood why they were obligated to do so, to confine themselves in these chambers. He knew they were hiding themselves too for some unknown reason, and that it was very likely for someone to recognize them here. But still he had no obligation to do so too.

This south, no one would ever recognize him, not when his hair is no longer the same, not in the Stormlands where the northerners rarely set a foot. After having the measter's permission, he got out of the inn, and started looking for the pond he noticed earlier. He needed to wash himself very badly, as he hadn't done ever since they left the capitol. The pond was not very far, and Jon enjoyed the quietness and the peaceful atmosphere. It reminded him of the north.

The water was cold and clear, something he was pleased with. He washed himself, and swam at the same time. As he got out and wore his clothes again, he took the knife to cut his hair like he always did, but decided against it at the last moment. It would be wiser to leave his locks untouched. His hair was no longer the same, its color changed drastically from its usual dark brown to a pale blond. It almost looked like silver he remarked. He had no explanation to what or why this happened. But somehow the whole change was beneficial, as nobody would think that a blond haired boy is the lost bastard of Winterfell. It also showed that the boy inside him was no longer the same.

As he was trying to get himself prepared to return to the inn, he noticed a man sitting next to a fire. It was such an unusual sight especially in this heat. He was all clad in a faded red, and was looking through the flames, the same way measter Lewyn looked when he was reading a valyrian text, Jon thought.

This foreign sight made Jon curious; he wanted to know why this man was sitting there. And so he approached him silently until he was only few foots away.

The man who now held a goatskin, probably filled with liquor, did not seem to notice him at all. But it was not true.

"I may be drunk, boy. But I know you're here" The man said.

"Forgive me my lord, I did not mean to disturb you. I was…. I was only curious….." Jon stuttered.

Hearing his words, the man laughed for what seemed a long time, before looking at Jon for the first time.

"I am no lord; I am only a simple man who finds pleasure in drinking and whoring. Although, I was something else before, at least I think I was" The man stated.

He sighed loudly and then added: "I don't blame you for being curious. I know how unusual I must seem to be, a man who is looking so intently at the fires, as if he's asking it to show him a vision".

Jon hesitated a few moments before finally asking: "Does the flames show you anything?"

"Come and see for yourself!"

For some reason, Jon felt compelled to do so even though the idea of seeing anything was pure madness. It was close to the stories Old Nan used to tell, unreal stories. Was he this bored to hear and heed the words of a drunken man? It seemed he was; for he approached him and focused on the flames before him.

He saw nothing.

But just as he tried to tear his eyes from the flames, something unexplained happen. He saw two men fighting, and then one of them struck the other with a warhammer. The blow was so massive that it caused the other man to fall from his horse, into his scattered ruby. The dying man looked into the sky and whispered one word that rang into Jon's mind: " Lyanna".

Shock and fear overwhelmed Jon at that moment. Did he lose his mind? Was he imagining things?

He was not sure about the answers, he was only certain that what he saw was just like a dream he had before.

The vision was so real it was as if it was a glimpse of the past.

But what confused him the most was why was he seeing this? Why did that man say his aunt's? And why was he linked to all of this? He must be either very tired, or very homesick, because now even the craziest things kept reminding him of The Starks, of his past.

He should have just ignored the man, and went back to the inn, he thought.

"It's nothing isn't it? All you see will be dancing flames." The drunkard interrupted

«Yes, there was nothing." He responded in a low voice.

«I must take my leave my lord" Jon added, before running farther as he could from the drunkard, who kept transfixing the fires.

When he finally reached the inn, he quickly went to the room they shared. Just as he was trying to enter, the door was opened. A man Jon never saw came out, looked at him for a second and then went his way. Without any second thoughts, Jon went in and greeted his companions, before settling in his claimed space to sleep, and perhaps to forget what happened. The next day he was woken up by a smiling measter.

«Our mission here is done." He had said.

«Our journey is near its end".


	11. Chapter 11

A long time ago, Ned was known to be the silent wolf of Winterfell.

Unlike his other siblings, he rarely got mad, or made any brash decisions or actions. The wolf blood his brother Bran and his sister Lya had was supposed to not be running in his veins, and he had none of the mischievousness of Ben.

And because of that damned blood, Bran lost his life to the mad king; his pup brother became some other people's brother, and his sister Lya…..

Sometimes, he wondered if his Unwolfish personality was what kept him alive, what made him the Lord of Winterfell. A title he never asked for.

And yet today, he was proven wrong in the worst way.

He indeed had the wolf blood; it was only dormant, waiting for something, or someone to awaken it.

He had slapped his blood, the boy that was entrusted into his care, the boy he had sworn to protect, the boy he had lie for, The boy he betrayed his best friend for, the boy who was the last piece of his sister in this life.

Ned could not endure hearing his beloved sister being called a whore, and especially not by her own son. But still the slap was uncalled for.

He should have used words instead, or worse lie to Jon about the identity of his mother.

He had tried to do the latter countless times. The Gods know how many times he tried to tell Jon that his mother was a fisherman's daughter he met during war, or that she was Wylla the woman who nursed him, or even Ashara Dayne like it was often rumored.

But he never did, he could not dishonor them, especially Ashara.

He had lied for eleven years to the point where he was no longer capable of lying again, not even to appease his blood's mind.

He still stood at the same place where he was talking to Jon, unable to move from there.

At first, he had wanted to follow the lad and speak with him, but he was so plagued with dark thoughts and regrets that he delayed the talk.

It was better this way, he thought.

He would wait until both he and Jon calmed down.

Until then, he decided to pray to the Old Gods like he always did. He needed to ask for forgiveness, guidance and strength.

A sleepless night was a small punishment for what he did.

He stayed there until it was time to break his fast with his family, and headed to Jon's chambers to ask for forgiveness.

The boy was not there, and from the state of his bed, Ned concluded that he did not even spend the night there.

And so, the Lord of Winterfell started looking for his bastard.

He checked every single part but to no avail. By midday, he notified everyone in the castle about Jon's disappearance, and ordered them to join the search.

After three days of search, there still was no trace of Jon Snow.

Eddard Stark was tired, sleepless, and panicking at the same time. He was praying that the child would be found safe and sound, that the promise that had cost him so much would be kept.

Alas, the gods do not always hear the plea of the faithful.

He had just come back home from one of the search patrols, when he heard probably the most terrible news since the rebellion.

Jon's clothing was found in the woods, full of blood.

No corpse was found, however his things were found near an area where lethal wolves often wandered.

The boy was dead.

This terrible conclusion leads Ned to nearly collapse, and to cry for the first time in years.

The funeral of his nephew was small and sad, and certainly not what a prince deserved.

Eddard tried at least to have his things burned to ashes, just like the valyrian old way, in order to honor the boy's Targaryen origins.

It took not over a moon, for life to return as it was in Winterfell.

The occupiers of the castle were just as lively as before, unlike their lord.

Even his children seemed to get over what happened: his son Robb got back to training with Theon, Sansa still wore the grieving colors but was often giggling with her friend Jeyne, Arya who cried so much that her eyes swelled seemed to be back to her wild cheerful self, and Bran was too young to grasp the concept of death.

He was the only one who suffered due to the death, it seemed.

Ned was unable to smile or laugh like he did before and he noticed that his usually brooding like face looked worse than before.

Forgetting was a blessing he did not have the chance to enjoy. He could never forget his greatest failure. He failed to keep his promises, and to protect a child.

He was unworthy of the deed.

And so he plunged in dark thoughts and lordship duties to punish himself, confining himself in his solar.

He was reading some the letters that his bannermen sent him, when Cat entered. She looked radiant in her white and grey attire, and looked at him with a smile.

"Ned I am with child" she told him cheerfully.

Hearing that, Eddard Stark smiled back at her and embraced her. He looked happy about the news.

Indeed it was wonderful, but how could he be blessed with another child, when his dead sister just lost her only son.

The gods were cruel.

The gods were indeed cruel, Wylla thought.

They were always punishing the innocent, and leaving the guilty unpunished.

Her dear daughter has just suffered from a miscarriage, again. This was the third time.

At first, it seemed that everything was going well.

She was in perfect health, and Wylla even came to stay with her daughter at her keep while her husband is away, in order to assist her and take care of her.

But that was all in vain.

Her sweet daughter was paying for her mother's own sins.

Wylla could not afford seeing her child suffering like she was right now. And so she headed back to her little house, as soon as the good mother came to the keep. Her daughter did not seem to mind, for she tried to look strong, to look unmoved by the happenings.

"I don't want my husband to see me like this, mama. We're still young, and we can still try for a child another time" She had told her when she was leaving.

Only Wylla was afraid that they would try countless times, and that it will always end in tragedy, for she had not righted her mistakes.

She was paying for what she did to the boy, for the lies she told, and the truths she hid.

If only she could see the boy and tell him everything.

But she was in Dorne and he was so far away in the cold north.

Correcting her mistake was impossible; therefore she was only able to ask the gods for mercy.

There was a small sept in town, one she had not gone to in ages. She was never a religious woman, not because she did not believe in the gods, but because she never had the time to pray.

She was busy raising and feeding her children, making sure they got a better life than she did.

She prayed there to the seven deities until she calmed a bit, and then decided to finally go home.

As she was going out, a small child rushed into her.

He looked at her, he assessed her and then he asked her "Are you Wylla?"

In response to the question, she only nodded.

"It is not too late. Tell the boy the truth but not all the truth, and all will be well. He will know everything when the right time comes" The mysterious boy told her before running away.

She did not understand what happened, or even what he told her. Her head was too occupied to grasp anything, or care about anything.

She was exhausted mentally and physically, and needed rest and a good night of sleep at her own room.

And so she continued her way to her home.

When she arrived finally, she found her son devon sitting in one of the tables with another boy maybe the same age as him, they did not notice her entering the house.

When she walked closer to them she finally saw who it was: a mirror image of a dragon price she once served.

Surprisingly, unexpectedly, the gods had heard her pleas.

She fainted with her eyes filled with tears of joy.


End file.
